Good Luck Prince
by awintea
Summary: Fuji always carried The Little Prince around with him, his broken good luck charm, in the hope that the luck would come back one day and bring back his prince with it // oneshot.


**Good Luck Prince**

Can my titles get any cheesier? XD And this is written both for Royal Flush in clubs on the POT is for Pointless but Original Talking forum.

But anyway, read on. XD

**x Good Luck Prince** x 888 words x Theme: Good Luck

Fuji Syusuke had a very crammed bookshelf with one little space on it. The small space could fit a thin book, but was never filled, despite the fact that Fuji had a multitude of thin books that could fit. Fuji kept the spot free of dust, a standing monument to the book that belonged there, though Fuji wished that the book that belonged there was actually there. The spot had once been occupied with a novella by a French author named Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, titled The Little Prince. The Little Prince never sat in the spot it should have, always in Fuji's bag. Fuji would switch bags every now and then, sometimes wearing a rucksack, other times a shoulder bag, and often wearing bags that nobody, not even Fuji, could name, but The Little Prince was always snugly inside, in a compartment where it was safe and wouldn't be damaged.

The book was special to him - his old good luck charm. Good things had always happened before when Fuji had the book with him, little things like helping him be at the right place at the right time, or remembering things that he had forgotten to do.

The Little Prince didn't work as a good luck charm any more though, and Fuji knew exactly what - or rather, who - was to blame. Nonetheless, Fuji kept The Little Prince with him, in hopes that the good luck would come back to him, and maybe even bring back the person who had been at fault for taking away the good luck from Fuji's charm along with it.

On the day of his graduation from high school, Fuji had stood up in the middle of the ceremony, bringing the principal's speech to a pause, and catching the attention of all those around him. 'I am going to be an artist,' he had said simply, his blue eyes blazing with emotion and his face devoid of his usual carefree smile. 'I'll paint all of the images of you on Earth before you slip away from me completely.' This comment had puzzled all those at the ceremony, as the one person who might have understood had not been present, so far away on distant shores that Fuji could not reach.

And Fuji had become a successful artist in all the mediums he employed. He had first flown into the realm of modern art, stunning the masses with his argumentative and nonconformist paintings. Then he had abruptly proclaimed that he was dropping out of the modern art bandwagon, disappointing all of the admirers of his work - but not for long, as Fuji had then jumped ship to work with sculptures, shaping masterpieces out of glass and wood and clay and metal. The world wasn't even a bit disappointed when Fuji announced his leaving sculpture, instead eagerly awaiting Fuji's next choices, which were literary: poetry, lyrics, and illustrated storybooks. Fuji then soared into the kingdom of watercolour, which he was still sojourning in.

Because of Fuji's wide artistic talents and how well he acted the part of delicate virtuoso, he was showcased often on the covers of prominent magazines, the front pages of the newspapers' entertainment and art sections, radio channels and television talk shows.

One of the most popular questions was why Fuji always kept the thin book The Little Prince close to him, and Fuji had a plethora of answers to choose from.

If Fuji was in an obliging mood, he'd reply, 'Oh, this? I just love the story. It's sweet and childlike, don't you think?' And then he would flash his usual smile and he would start to explain the story of The Little Prince in detail, always ending with the same equivocal sentence: 'I hope he comes back.'

If Fuji was feeling lackadaisical, he would reply nonchalantly, with a little half-smile, 'Why not?' and that would be that. He would refuse to answer any more questions about the mysterious story, instead directing the conversation to his ingenious works of art.

When Fuji was feeling uncommonly truthful, he would tell the reporter or whoever was asking a simple sentence. 'It's a broken good luck charm,' he would say, which really didn't answer the question, but brought a few more questions instead. Why did Fuji keep a broken good luck charm? What was the symbolism behind it? Fuji wouldn't answer any of the other questions, just smiling with his eyes closed, hiding the stormy blue eyes that were full of sadness that he didn't want to share.

Fuji had so many answers that nobody could ever figure out which answer was the single truth and which were falsehoods said with an innocent face to confuse.

Fuji never did say the true answer to the question, hoping that someday, somehow, the answer would come to him, through the mouth of another.

Fuji wanted to hear the words 'You don't need that book any more' more than anything else. Fuji didn't want to have to keep The Little Prince close to him all the time, his little reminder of a good luck charm gone bad.

Because if Fuji's own little prince came back, The Little Prince by Saint Antoine de Saint-Exupéry could go back to its rightful spot on Fuji's crammed bookshelf.

And Fuji would have a working good luck charm again. **x owari**

I do hope I wasn't too vague and that the pairing is recognisable. Reviews would be positively magical and make my day. -awinchan


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